Packing Lunches
by sknkodiak
Summary: Newlywed Hannah searches for her place in the McFadden family
1. Chapter 1

**Packing Lunches Part 1**

From The Pilot:

_Hannah: School? When do you have the time?_

_Ford: We're just out to bring down the cows. We do that every year._

Their Sunday night supper after the county fair was a meal of celebration.

Brian had made fried chicken which was actually very good. Since he had stopped glaring at her every time she walked near him, Hannah had offered to help with the meal and so they had mashed potatoes with a good gravy, Cole slaw, the last of the fresh green peas from the garden and both pie and cake for dessert. Hannah had privately thought that was too much food – they had, after all, eaten lunch at the fairgrounds along with candy apples and cotton candy and peanuts when they weren't competing in the events or fighting with Wheeler and his men. Guthrie had even eaten all those pies. But her new family ate everything on the table. Come to think of it, were some of the napkins missing too? Was she ever going to get used to these guys?

Adam forked the last bite of the chocolate cake into his mouth and refilled his coffee cup. With a groan, he sat back in his chair. "That was a fine meal!"

Brian, rather surprisingly, flashed a small smile in Hannah's direction. "Thank Hannah. I just fried the chicken. She did the rest of it."

"Is there more pie?" Guthrie asked eagerly, looking around.

Daniel mussed his hair. "Aren't you sick it pie yet? How many did you end up eating in the contest?"

Guthrie shrugged. "More than the other guys did."

Adam laughed. "Good thing." His face was happy and relaxed; Hannah wasn't sure she'd ever seen him this way. "Our new bull is happily settled in the corral and tomorrow he can start meeting the cows."

"I think we should guard the barn tonight," Brian stated. "Wheeler might come after him like he did the other one."

Crane shook his head. "I don't think so. It'd be too obvious. Wheeler is a lot of things but stupid isn't one of them."

"Maybe so. But I think I'll bed down in the tack room anyway." Brian held up a hand when Crane opened his mouth. "You're probably right, okay? But I don't think I'll be able to sleep up here anyway."

"You'd better get some sleep, anyway," Adam said. "Tomorrow will be a busy day. And it's back to school for you guys."

This remark elicited groans from Daniel and Evan and a happy grin from Ford. Guthrie didn't say anything, his mouth full of the last piece of pie Daniel had slid in front of him.

"Come on, Adam, let's take tomorrow off too," Daniel coaxed. "One more day, what could it hurt?"

"Your grade point average, among other things," Adam said. He shook his head. "Don't give me a hard time, Daniel. You know the rules."

Daniel let out a huge sigh and slumped back in his chair. "It's not like I need school for anything, anyway…"

His three older brothers just stared at him. Hannah had the feeling this was just the latest rendition of an old argument.

Evan stood up. "Guess I better go do my homework," he grumped.

Adam rolled his eyes. "See you left it until the last minute again. What is it this time? Please, not another five page report on a book you haven't even read yet!"

"Nah, just math. I can do it in my sleep."

"Well, given your last report card, how about you try doing it awake instead?" Crane said, standing up in turn and starting to clear away the dishes. "I'll pack lunches. Guthrie, you're on drying duty tonight."

Ford jumped to his feet. "First dibs on the shower," he yelled, running toward the stairs.

Daniel groaned again as he started to stand. "Guess I have homework too."

Hannah just sat there feeling left out and alone. She'd thought, after this weekend and everything that had gone down at the fair that she was fitting in with this new family of hers. But they all seemed to have assigned roles to play that she knew nothing about.

Brian dropped his head into his hands. "I don't suppose there's any chance any of you have clean clothes for tomorrow?"

Guthrie managed to swallow the last bite without choking himself and he answered, "Hannah did laundry. All week!"

Brian looked up at her. "You did?"

"Well, yes," she admitted. The sight and smell of that overflowing laundry room had nearly overwhelmed her.

"That's who used all the laundry soap!" Brian announced, as if he'd just solved the mystery of Amelia Earhart's last flight. Before Hannah could be offended, he flashed a wide smile at her. "Thanks," he said, in probably the most sincere voice she'd heard from him all week.

"You're welcome," she murmured, flushing. She felt a little better.

"Well, since Hannah took care of the clothes, I'll head on down to the barn and check on the stock," Brian said, rising. He looked at Adam. "You coming?"

Adam drained the last of the coffee in his cup and stood. "Just let me kiss my beautiful wife," he said, suiting action to the words.

"Crane, cover Guthrie's eyes. We don't want the baby exposed to this wanton affection," Brian teased. Hannah could tell he _was _teasing, and in a good natured way, and that cheered her up some more. She clung tightly to Adam before making herself let him go.

Left alone, she tried to figure out what to do, where she could fit in to this apparent routine. Finally she drifted toward the sink. Crane was scraping plates into the trash and steamy water was rushing into one side of the sink. Guthrie squirted soap into the water and flicked his fingers into the resulting bubbles.

"I'll wash," she quickly told Guthrie.

Crane turned toward her. "You don't have to," he said, uncertainly. "You cooked."

"Family rule," Guthrie chimed in, although he was already handing her a sponge. "The cook never has to wash."

Hannah smiled. "Where did that rule come from? And besides, Brian fried the chicken, I just helped with the side dishes."

"Well, to be honest, Brian made up that rule because he hates to wash dishes," Crane smirked. "So if you don't mind, thanks. And I'll figure out lunches for tomorrow." He gleefully pointed to the maybe two spoonful's worth of potatoes left in the bowl. "That takes care of Guthrie."

Hannah didn't know what he was talking about and watched politely as Crane pulled out bread, mayonnaise and an onion, plus a big jar of dill pickles and arranged all of it on the counter. He spread mayonnaise on two slices of bread and then placed the cold mashed potatoes on one slice. Her eyes widened as he shook black pepper on top of the potatoes, then sliced onions and pickles and arranged them on the other piece of bread. Surveying his creation, he flashed a grin at Guthrie before wrapping the sandwich in Saran wrap.

"You're going to eat that for lunch?" she managed to ask Guthrie, trying not to gag.

He nodded enthusiastically. "Crane makes them the best. Brian doesn't put on enough pepper and Adam always forgets the onions."

"Okay," Hannah replied faintly. She really couldn't imagine any circumstances that she'd be able to choke down a potato, onion and pickle sandwich without vomiting, much less look as enthused as Guthrie did about it.

She noticed Crane was watching her. She couldn't read the look on his face but she was too afraid he could read hers.

Crane pulled out a stash of small brown paper bags from the pantry. "Hey, Guth. Why don't you go down to the cellar and get some apples? We don't have any up here. Think Hannah used them all up in that pie she made."

"Okay!" Guthrie said cheerfully, heading for the back door.

Crane waited until his younger brother was gone before he said, "I know it's not the most nutritious lunch but –"

Hannah held up a hand. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be critical. I just…cold mashed potatoes?"

Crane smiled sadly. "There was a time when cold mashed potatoes might be all we had for lunch. Guthrie grew up on them. He loves them. So does Ford. The younger ones are pretty easy, they'll eat almost anything. So will Evan. Daniel's a little picky, but not much."

"Doesn't the school have a hot lunch program?"

Crane's faced changed. He sighed. "Well, the grade school does, yeah. The problem would be getting him to eat it." He shrugged, heading back to the refrigerator and opening the door, perusing the shelves. His voice was muffled as he went on, "Most of the people around here are friends, a lot of them helped out after our parents… died. But some folks – a teacher teased Guthrie about it a while back. Back when he was little, second grade I think. We never did find out what exactly he said but it really upset Guthrie. Ford, Evan and Daniel were all still in the same school then and they all flatly refused to eat the school lunches anymore. And the high school doesn't have a hot lunch program, so –" he shrugged.

Hannah didn't know what to say and then Guthrie came back in the room with a half dozen apples that he lined up in front of Crane before returning to her side and picking up the towel. He'd obviously heard part of the conversation because he said, "Those school lunches are awful anyway."

Hannah thought back to when she was in school. She remembered one lunchtime when she was very small and the cafeteria had served liver and spinach and green beans all in the same meal. Apparently the day the students were supposed to get their iron quotient for the entire week. The liver had been undercooked and bloody and she'd ended up getting sick in the water fountain because the teacher on duty wouldn't let her go to the bathroom. After that she, too, had carried a sack lunch. But she'd never had cold potato sandwiches in her lunches. Usually hers had been bologna or tuna sandwiches and sometimes soup in a thermos.

The room was quiet as she washed dishes and Crane scrabbled to fix four lunches. Guthrie – who she noted during the last week basically had two speeds, full throttle and full stop – was repeatedly yawning as he dried dishes. Glancing at the clock, Hannah was surprised to realize it was well after nine. They hadn't come home from the fairgrounds until evening and supper had been much later than usual.

Crane assembled two cheese sandwiches with lettuce and thick slices of tomato, cucumber and onion. Or maybe they were tomato, cucumber and onion sandwiches with a thin slice of cheese. He put these into brown paper bags with apples and some ginger cookies from the old stoneware cookie jar. Hannah didn't protest, even though she'd tried one of those cookies earlier and had practically broken a tooth.

With three lunches done, Crane seemed at a loss what to do about the fourth. He rummaged around the refrigerator again, although Hannah could have told him it was pretty empty. He finally backed out with two small eggs in his hand and took the saucepan that Guthrie was drying from him. "I guess Daniel is going to get egg salad," he said, running water into the saucepan.

"Yuck!" Guthrie exclaimed.

"You don't like egg salad?" Hannah asked, surprised. Hadn't Crane just said Guthrie would eat anything?

The youngest McFadden shook his head. "Not in a sandwich. Don't like the way it feels in my mouth."

"The texture," Crane added.

Hanna couldn't quite follow the logic of this, given that Guthrie apparently ate – and enjoyed! – sandwiches made of cold lumpy mashed potatoes.

Ford came down the back stairs then, his hair damp from his shower and wearing pajamas. Apparently he and Guthrie were the only two brothers who actually owned a pair of pajamas – everyone else seemed to sleep in some variety of the t-shirt/boxers/sweat pants apparel. He took the towel from Guthrie and a plate from Hannah. "Go on upstairs and get your shower while Evan and Daniel are still doing homework," he told his younger brother. Guthrie nodded, yawning again, and trudged away mumbling something that could have been _"Good night."_

"How're they doing on their homework?" Crane asked Ford as he set a timer for the eggs.

"Evan's got five more Algebra problems," Evan's roommate answered. "And I don't know about Daniel. He's reading something, his Government book, I think."

"Did you have homework?" Hannah thought to ask. "Does Guthrie?"

Ford smiled at her. "I'm already done. Guthrie is, too."

Crane laughed. "We have two kinds of students in this house, Hannah."

"The _Adams_ and the _Brians_," Ford chimed in.

"What does that mean?"

"_Adams_ do all their homework as soon as they get home, or at least that first night," Crane said. "_Brians_, on the other hand, wait until the last possible minute and then scramble around trying to get it done."

From his tone, Hannah could guess which philosophy he went with. Ford confirmed that. "Adam, Crane, Guthrie and I are _Adams."_

"And the others aren't," Crane finished, picking pieces of shell off the boiled eggs.

"Even though we've tried to convince them of the error of their ways," Adam said from the doorway.

Crane starting mashing the eggs in a bowl. "Some people just can't learn," he intoned in mock-seriousness.

Hannah smiled at his comment as she handed the last of the silverware to Ford to dry. She dried her hands and slipped into her husband's welcoming arms.

**7Bf7B**

Hannah thought about those lunches the next day. Morning was chaos – she now understood why some of the brothers showered in the mornings and others in the evenings – but somehow Daniel, Evan and Ford got out of the house and down the long driveway in time to catch their bus to the high school in Angels Camp. Thirty minutes later, Guthrie gulped the last of his orange juice, grabbed his jacket and books, yelled, "Bye!" and ran down the front porch steps to slide into a station wagon that had pulled up in front.

"I thought he rode the bus," Hannah said.

"He rides home on it," Crane informed her, piling dishes into the sink. "They changed the routes this year. The elementary school bus comes around here before seven. So Carey Barrett picks him up an hour later and takes him to school with her daughter Jenny."

"Carey Barrett?"

"Tom and Carey Barrett are old friends of the family. Tom and our dad were in business together back when Brian and I were little. You'll meet them," Adam said, shrugging on his jacket. Then he was kissing her and he and Brian and Crane were going out the back door into the damp morning.

Hannah found herself – for the first time since her marriage – alone in the big farmhouse. _"I guess last week was the honeymoon,"_ she said to herself as she looked around the kitchen.

She remembered the first time she'd seen the house, when they'd driven up in front of it and she'd commented to Adam _"That's such a big place for the two of us!" _Of course, it wasn't just the two of them and during the last week she'd thought sometimes the roof was going to fly off or the walls bulge out with all the people crammed inside. Now that she was alone, it again reverted back to being huge and echoing with silence.

She started to gather the dishes, then turned around when she heard the door open. Brian stepped in, glancing around at the mess.

"You don't have to clean it up," he said. "Crane or I'll come in at lunch and do it. We didn't mean to make you think you had to."

"It's okay," Hannah replied. She smiled. "It's not like I'm doing anything else."

Brian dropped his gaze. "You've done a lot," he said, looking at the floor. "The house looks great, and all the laundry – you must think we're all a bunch of pigs."

Hannah was startled by his statement. "No! I mean…" She took a breath, carefully picking her words. She didn't want to do anything that might fracture this tentative peace the two of them seemed to be reaching. "I think you all have your hands full. I'm a part of this family now, I want to do my part. If that means doing the dishes while the younger boys are in school and you guys are out on the ranch, that's fine."

"Well, if you don't mind… could… would you like to go into town and do some shopping?" He met her gaze with a quick, abashed smile. "We never did get what we went into town for last week when I mixed it up with Wheeler's boys." He moved toward the refrigerator and pulled a scribbled over piece of paper from under a magnet. "Here's the list, and anything you want to get… we have an account at the general store." He handed her the paper and the keys to the truck.

Hannah was pleased to be asked. "Sure. I can do that."

"Do you like to cook?"

"Yes, actually, I do."

Awkward silence. Brian rubbed the back of his neck and blew air out of his cheeks in a whoosh. "Well, I mean if you want to… Adam and I'll probably be up in the north pasture until dark. If you wanted to cook supper… that would be nice. Only if you want to, though."

Hannah recognized the olive branch he was holding out. Brian had been the most difficult of the brothers for her to read in the week she'd been here. He hadn't been overtly rude – well at least not since the first evening – but he sure hadn't been warm and welcoming, either. "I'd be glad to fix supper, Brian." One olive branch deserved another. "Was there anything special you had planned for tonight?"

He shook his head. "No." He flashed a bashful grin. "To be honest, I'm usually flying by the seat of my pants rather than planning meals. The freezers are full of meat, and I think Crane told you, nobody's too picky."

"Freezers?" Hannah looked around the kitchen.

"They're both in the cellar."

Hannah remembered Crane sending Guthrie to the cellar the night before, but she didn't remember seeing a cellar. She knew where the pantry – rather amazingly well-stocked with home-canned foods – was, but not the cellar. She asked "Where is the cellar?"

He stared at her for a minute, and then shook his head. She was afraid he was going to say something rude about her not seeing it but he didn't. "I guess nobody showed you where it was? How'd Adam miss that in that breakneck tour he gave you?" He was grinning and she smiled in return. "Come on, Miss – _Mrs._ McFadden – and I'll show you." He held the outside door open for her.

The cellar door was right there on the porch, but Hannah could see how she'd overlooked it before; there wasn't a knob as such but more like a metal handle that turned clockwise to unlock. She followed Brian down a steep flight of stairs into a surprisingly large room that seemed to be a combination of traditional basement and root cellar. Large bins ran along two walls, holding potatoes, onions, apples, squash and pumpkins. Two freezers, each easily seven feet long, sat side by side along the third wall. Under the steps was the hot water heater and in a tiny room of its own was the furnace.

Brian waited patiently as Hannah selected a large roast from one of the freezers and gathered up potatoes, squash and onions. "Guthrie had a mashed potato sandwich for lunch today."

She wasn't sure how Brian would respond but she was surprised by his laughter. He took the roast from her and led the way back to the kitchen. "Mama loved those."

"You're kidding." Then Hannah caught herself. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to –"

He waved his hand. "I know what you mean. But she really did think they were great. I can't stand them myself but Guthrie has always liked them. He'll make a sandwich out of the mashed potatoes at the table sometimes. I know he doesn't remember Mama liking them so I don't know why he does."

Hannah put the vegetables down on the sink. "Does he remember your parents at all?"

Adam had told her their parents had died _"About ten years back."_ Guthrie was twelve.

Brian shook his head. "No, he doesn't. Evan and Ford – they remember some – but Guthrie doesn't remember them at all." He started for the door and then turned back, obviously wanting to say something else.

Hannah waited.

Brian ran his fingers through his hair, then finally turned to face her. "Look. I need to say something to you and I don't know how to make it sound nice. So I don't mean to offend you but hear me out, okay?"

She nodded, tensing.

"Adam… my brother, he loves you. A lot."

That wasn't what she'd expected to hear. "I love him."

"Yeah, I get that. It's just –" Brian let out his breath in a sigh. "Hannah, when our parents died, Adam gave up a lot. Hell, he gave up _everything_. He wanted to go to college, be a doctor. Get away from this ranch and Murphys and… well, everything. He was eighteen when they died and ever since he's been tied to this ranch and this family." He shook his head. "I don't mean he doesn't love it here now, but – this wasn't what he wanted out of life."

"Is this what _you _wanted out of life?" Hannah asked. "Adam says you raised the boys together."

Brian shrugged. "It doesn't matter so much about me. I mean, I never wanted to leave anyway. Didn't want to go to college. I guess, if they hadn't died, I probably would have, but it wasn't any great loss to me not to go. I loved the ranch, never could see myself going anywhere else." He stopped, then added, almost in a whisper, "Well, not back then anyway."

Before she could say anything he went on. "Adam had a girlfriend when Mama and Daddy died. I don't know that they were destined to get married or anything, but he cared about her a lot. She… well I guess she couldn't see herself being a mother at eighteen. And after her, he never… maybe one or two dates with someone but nobody serious. Until you.

"I know, him marrying you and then bringing you out here when you didn't know anything about us, it seemed kind of …" He was obviously struggling to express what he was thinking. He took another deep breath. "He should have told you. But he really loves you. I can tell. I know him. He was afraid if he told you, he'd lose you. And I really don't think he could take losing you."

"Brian," she had to stop him. "Adam and I talked about this. It's okay. I understand why he didn't tell me and it's okay." She paused. "All I ask is that you guys give me a chance."

Brian laughed without much humor. "That's not the problem Hannah. You've got all the chances in the world with us. Just…return the favor, okay?" He was gone before she could think of what to say.

**to be continued**


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Please forgive me my lack of A/N at the start of the last chapter. In it I should have explained that I have not abandoned Over the Edge. Edge is just turning out to be a longer angsty story and I wanted to work on something lighter and shorter while on vacation. Originally Lunches was going to be a one parter, then a two parter... now I'm not predicting._

_Packing Lunches takes place during the first, pilot episode: after the fight at the Fairground but before the scene where Hannah tosses the biscuit to Adam at the end. This story supposes there was a week between those two scenes G_

_Also, this story expands on a scene that was referred to in One Step Up and One Step Down._

_Many thanks to May, for her awesome beta job, as usual! -sue_

**Part Two**

Hannah actually had a kind of fun day, by herself in the big empty house. Between cooking more food _(surely!) _than a family of eight could eat in one meal, she wandered about, touching things, feeling them, settling in.

In the last week she had seen the house, cleaned the house, and got acquainted with the house. Today, she saw and got acquainted with her new home. Her home.

It had been a long time since she'd had a home. She'd left hers when she was eleven. After her dad and her grandmother had died, and her mother had decided the little ranch was just too much work and too far away from… well, from the life her mother wanted to have.

They'd moved to Denver. _Why Denver? _She'd asked once. And her mom couldn't really give her an answer. _"Just seemed like the right place," _she'd shrugged.

In the Mile High city they'd lived in apartments. Small, cramped rooms in big buildings that reminded Hannah of drawings she'd seen of the inside of ant hills. All the busy little ants in their tiny little chambers…

They moved a lot. Every year, sometimes more. Her mom was restless. Looking for something she couldn't seem to find, no matter how many jobs, or apartments, or men she had.

Hannah wondered sometimes if her mother missed the old place as much as she did.

When Hannah was sixteen her mom got a job as a travel agent. It was a good job and she kept it. She'd go on trips to fanciful places: Greece, Hawaii, Australia. The summer after Hannah graduated from high school they went on a cruise. A month long cruise, all around Europe. Hannah saw castles and museums and ruins and beautiful scenery.

But nothing seemed as nice as she remembered that little home in California being.

She'd gone to college for two years, college right there in Denver. Lived in the same apartment with her mother, although her mother wasn't there that much. Between travel and her new boyfriend she was gone a lot. Hannah thought once when she was making her solitary dinner that it was almost like having her own place. She thought about redecorating. Her mom wouldn't care. But it was too much trouble for a place she was going to leave, and she knew she was going to leave. Soon.

She didn't enroll for her junior year in college; instead she packed some clothes and a few personal things and loaded everything into her battered third-hand car and set out to see where she would go.

She spent part of her tuition money on a tiny little trailer; had a hitch put on the car and towed her home-away-from-home with her as she wandered around New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada and on into California. She stopped when she wanted to and found work. Every place needed waitresses or cooks and she was good at that. Sometimes she'd get to a town she liked, and she'd think _Maybe this is my home._

But it never was.

Then she'd found herself in the same area she'd lived in as a child. She looked for that little ranch, found it at the end of a gravel road. But it didn't look like she remembered it and people lived there, people she didn't know. With a sigh, she moved on.

To just a ways up the road. A town called Murphys. And the first day there, waitressing in the diner, she looked up and saw the most handsome man she had ever seen. And she knew, almost at once, that she'd found her stopping place.

And then he married her. And he brought her here.

To her home.

**7Bf7B**

Guthrie got home at three thirty, just about the time she was sliding a tray of yeast rolls – her grandmother's recipe - into the oven with the roast beef.

"Hi Hannah!" he greeted her with a big smile and a little hug and her heart melted. His brothers might not know what to make of her, but Guthrie seemed to like her from the first minute they met. Hannah remembered a fragment of something she'd read once, something about _meeting old souls in new bodies_. Guthrie, she thought, was an old soul.

Also a hungry one. He devoured a peanut butter sandwich and then a half dozen of those hard-as-rock ginger cookies. When he opened the refrigerator again, she had to protest. "You'll spoil your supper!"

"But I'm _hungry!"_

She heard laughter at the door. Crane had come in at some point and he was watching them both, a twinkle in his eye. "He's always hungry, Hannah. I think it comes with being twelve. We can't keep him filled up." He bent down to give Guthrie a hug. "How was school? Do you have homework?"

"It was fine. David Ortez had a bloody nose. It was so cool. Mrs. Barker almost threw up!"

"Poor Mrs. Barker. She always did have kind of a weak stomach."

Hannah hadn't thought too much about it before, but now she realized that if the boys had lived here all their lives, no doubt they'd had a lot of the same teachers. She remembered how she'd always envied kids in her classes in the first day of school when the teacher would say _"You must be so-and so's sister or brother_." Once or twice they had even asked her if she was related to some other Moss that had been at the school. She'd so wanted to say _"Yes!" _even though it wasn't true. Wanted that feeling of belonging, of heritage. Of family.

Crane and Guthrie were both eating apples. When Guthrie went for another one, Crane stopped him with his hand. "So, Mrs. McFadden," he asked casually, "What's for supper tonight?"

"You're cooking?" Guthrie asked, his eyes big. Crane knocked him in the shoulder. "I bet it will be great," the youngest McFadden added hastily.

Hannah had to laugh. "Well, I hope so," she said. "We're having roast beef. Mashed potatoes—" oh, and she hoped Guthrie didn't pile them into a sandwich – "a squash casserole, green beans with some little new potatoes from the garden, homemade rolls. Oh, and a tomato and onion salad."

She was a little worried about the salad. Did teenage boys eat that kind of thing? She'd made it because her grandmother had always said tomatoes and onions, marinated in a vinaigrette, was the perfect accompaniment to roast beef. Besides, there were all those beautiful tomatoes from the garden.

"Sounds good," Crane said, although there was a look on his face she couldn't figure out. He turned to his younger brother. "Guth, go on out to the garden and pick some lettuce and things. I'll make a tossed green salad too." Crane took out a plastic salad bowl that was so large Hannah had to wonder if it had originally been Guthrie's bassinet when he was a baby.

"Okay," Guthrie said, bounding out the door.

Hannah wasn't quite sure why they _needed _a tossed salad, but she didn't say anything. Come to think of it, there had been a green salad at every evening meal she'd had here since her marriage. Maybe the family just really liked green salads. Besides, it wasn't like you could preserve lettuce like you could other vegetables. Anyway, she was banking on there being leftovers. Maybe Guthrie would like a roast beef sandwich in his lunch the next day rather than cold mashed potatoes.

**7Bf7B**

Back when she was in junior high, Hannah knew a girl named Liz Marshall. They weren't close friends, but their names were next to each other alphabetically and so they ended up sharing a duplex desk during social studies. They had teamed up to do a project on Argentina. Liz was one of six kids, which only child Hannah thought was so exciting.

After school they walked to Liz's house to work on the assignment. Hannah was asked to stay for dinner, and she eagerly accepted. It was during that dinner that she realized being part of a large family was different than it appeared on TV. She remembered being totally lost in the multiple conversations, arguments and commentary going on at the dining table. Two of Liz's younger brothers were arguing across the table with each other and at one point started pelting each other with the brown 'n serve rolls.

After the meal, when she got ready to go home, Liz's mother had put an arm around her shoulder and laughed, _"It's hard understanding being part of a big family when you haven't been. You either have to grow with it, or grow up in it."_

Hannah found herself thinking about that tonight as she sat in her own (new) dining room watching and listening to her own (new) family.

To start with, the huge meal she'd prepared – that she had been confident would not only sate everyone's hunger but leave copious amounts of leftovers for the next day's lunches – was disappearing at a disconcerting rate. Thank heaven she had doubled Grandma's recipe for yeast rolls. Apparently the McFadden men _really_ liked homemade bread products.

At least, her new brothers-in-law weren't ignoring her, and they made a point to pass her food before they dove in themselves. It was just that there were three – at least – separate conversations going on in the room and for the life of her she couldn't figure out how anybody could make sense out of anything.

For one thing, Evan and Daniel were mad at each other. They'd been sniping at each other ever since they got off the school bus – for all Hannah knew they'd been at it all day – but at the supper table it overflowed into yelling, harsh words and hateful looks.

Hannah was waiting for the yeast rolls to start flying any minute.

The quarrel escalated over roast beef until Hannah could swear the glasses were ringing. Hannah didn't even know what they were fighting about. She had heard mention of a girl – _Luci _– but then they were yelling at each other about someone forgetting to fix something before someone else had a date. Then it was who hadn't fixed the fence and how the cows got out and ruined the other one's evening plans. At that point it degenerated into name calling, their voices getting louder and higher.

Hannah was really upset by this. With the exception of Brian – who seemed to have a short fuse – the rest of the men in the family seemed to be fairly even tempered and fond of each other. She saw it in so many ways – in their laughter and jokes and affectionate touches to the shoulder or ruffling the hair. What seemed to make this worse was that none of the other brothers paid any attention at all. Adam and Crane were talking about something – insurance maybe? And then they were talking with Brian about whether or not the roof would hold up for another winter. At one point Adam asked a question of Daniel, but Daniel was busy yelling at Evan at the time and Adam just shrugged and went back to talking to Brian.

Ford was talking to Crane – when Crane wasn't talking to Adam or Brian – about some big project he had for his biology class. When Crane was talking to his older brothers, Ford and Guthrie carried on a conversation about lambs, rabbits, and the 4-H. They all ignored the battle in their midst.

The only time anybody paid any attention was when the F-Bombs started to fly. Adam broke off his chat with Brian, glared at his younger brothers, and reminded them "Hey! We don't use that kind of language at the table!"

Both boys stopped, mid-curse, said in unison, "Sorry, Hannah," and then went on calling each other names. "You're a friggin' asshole!" Evan yelled.

"And you're a little shit!" Daniel returned.

Apparently the only word banned at the McFadden supper table started with the letters "FU".

She sat there, feeling tears prick her eyes, as the conversations swirled around her.

_-"I don't know, Guthrie. We'd have to build a hutch. Rabbits don't regulate their temperatures well, do they, Crane?" –_

_-"We could just start out with a couple, Ford!"—_

_-"Oh don't lie about it, Evan! You do too know what I'm talking about!" –_

_-"You start out with a couple and you'll have a dozen before you know it." –_

_-"When is the last time anyone checked the fence line up at the crossing? That land touches Wheeler's… don't want any of our cattle straying onto his land…" –_

_- "I can go check it out with you tomorrow. Crane's got that meeting at the Co-op, right, Crane?" –_

_- "She was looking at me, not you, Daniel! Sarah's not going to melt just because you can play guitar." –_

Sarah? Who was Sarah? What happened to Luci?

Guthrie looked at her and noticed her distress. "What's wrong, Hannah?"

She had to say something. "I just –"

Guthrie followed her gaze to his battling brothers. "Oh, them? Don't worry about it Hannah, they're both just jerks."

How Daniel and Evan heard that, given they were near-operatic in their fury by this point, Hannah didn't know. But they did. Both brothers turned on their youngest and Hannah braced herself to intervene if they started in on Guthrie.

But they didn't. Instead, Evan laughed, "Who you calling a jerk, shrimp?"

"Both of you," Guthrie volleyed back.

"Besides, Rose Patrello won't date either one of you. You know how strict her dad is, and we aren't Catholic," Ford chimed in. "Anyway, didn't you see her with Bish at lunch? They were practically drooling at each other."

_Rose? What about Sarah? Or Luci?_

Daniel made a face. "Bish? She could do better."

"What's wrong with Bish?" Evan asked, in a conversational tone.

Ford snorted.

"Nothing's wrong with Bish. He's just a moron."

Evan laughed. "Well, except for on the football field. Or when he's wrestling. But yeah, no chance he's going to be valedictorian or anything."

Daniel looked down at Guthrie's empty plate. "Hey, Guthrie, don't you want some more? Evan, pass the roast, okay?"

"Sure." Evan handed the big platter over to Daniel and watched as Daniel heaped a few of the remaining slices onto Guthrie's plate. "Course, not much chance me or you is going to be valedictorian, either."

Daniel laughed. "We'll just have to leave that to Ford and Guthrie. Besides, Adam and Crane were already top of their class, we don't want to overwhelm everyone with McFaddens!"

"This is a great supper, Hannah," Ford said.

"Yeah, it is," Brian chimed in. "Thanks."

Daniel looked up from his third helping of everything, and really, how could he eat that much and keep talking? "Is there any dessert?" 

Later that night, when they were getting ready for bed, Hannah asked Adam why he hadn't intervened when Daniel and Evan were fighting.

He stared at her. "They were _fighting? _When?"

She stared back at him. "At supper! When you told them to watch their language."

He grinned. "Hannah, that wasn't a _fight. _Fights are when there's hitting or kicking. They were just… discussing. They do that all the time. You'll get used to it. Just wait until Crane and Brian go at it!"

_Oh dear Lord, I am never going to understand these people!_

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews and comments! As usual thanks the Supreme Beta Person, May_

**Part Three**

If Hannah had thought Monday morning was wild and hectic, Tuesday morning was far worse. Ford was pale and his eyes were dull. When pressed by Brian he admitted he had a bad headache, but he still insisted he had to go to school. Then, he couldn't find his geometry homework. Evan came charging down the stairs while Crane, Adam and Ford were searching and groused about someone using all the hot water and him having to take a cold shower. The geometry homework was finally found but all the stress had obviously made Ford feel worse. He kept rubbing his forehead and just spooned his oatmeal listlessly, not eating it. A worried Brian dosed him with aspirin with his orange juice.

Guthrie announced he couldn't find his jacket _anywhere. _Adam groaned but he got up to look for it. Crane asked, "Did you bring it home from school yesterday?"

Guthrie frowned. "I don't remember."

"Guthrie!" Adam snapped. "How can you not remember where your clothes are? If you had it on when you left, you should have had it on when you came back."

Guthrie stared down into his breakfast, not even tasting it. "I'm sorry Adam."

Brian glared at Adam. "It's all right Guthrie, it's not the first time somebody in this family has lost a jacket. Even Saint Adam the Perfect has lost a few things in his time."

"He can borrow one of mine," Ford muttered, eyes closed and holding his head in his hands. Hannah wondered if he had a fever but before she could say or do anything Adam reached over and touched his forehead. "You're pretty warm," he said, obviously a little worried. "Sure you shouldn't stay home from school?"

Ford shook his head. "I have two tests today."

"Man, you never let _me _stay home," Evan groused.

"You were out all last week. And the week before that."

"Well that was 'cause of the roundup. And there wasn't any school last week because of the fair."

Daniel stumbled in then, hair wet and dripping around his shoulders. "Evan, you used up all the hot water!"

"No, I didn't," Evan defended himself. "There wasn't any when I showered either."

"Oh, no," Crane groaned. "Don't tell me the hot water heater is out. We can't afford a new one right now."

"Maybe it's just the pump. I can check it," Daniel said, rising from the table. Adam caught his arm.

"Sit down and eat your breakfast. It can wait."

Daniel looked over at Ford and Guthrie. "What's wrong with you two? Why aren't you eating?"

Ford just shook his head. Guthrie's head was down, hair hanging in his eyes and Hannah couldn't see his face. She shot an angry look at her husband. He sighed.

"Guthrie," he said gently. "Just eat your breakfast. Mrs. Barrett will be here to pick you up in a few minutes. Just look around school for your jacket today, okay?"

"Okay," Guthrie said, sounding a little more cheerful. He picked up his spoon.

"I'm going over to Jeff's after school," Daniel announced, smearing jam on his toast. "We've got a gig this weekend, that bar in Sonora, I told you, remember? Won't be home until pretty late, probably. Don't save me any supper, we're going to get pizza or burgers or something."

Adam sighed again. "On a school night?" he asked tersely.

Boy, her husband wasn't doing too well with his younger brothers today. Daniel dropped his toast and glared fiercely at him. "This job is important –"

"They're always important," Adam growled. "What about your education?"

"Ah, hell, Adam, I could graduate at the end of the semester if you weren't so stubborn about it. I have enough credits."

"To graduate, maybe. Not to get into a good college." Crane chimed in.

Crane and Daniel usually seemed to be on the same page about things but not about this apparently. Daniel transferred his glare to his roommate. "I don't need to go to college."

Hannah noticed everyone around the table seemed to tense up. She got the idea this was another one of those ongoing conversations she knew nothing about.

Ford shoved his chair back and lurched to his feet, panic on his face. Before anyone could do more than look at him he was running into the laundry room. They could all hear the sound of retching.

"Gross!" Guthrie said, wrinkling his nose and shoving his oatmeal away.

Hannah hoped Ford was vomiting into the sink, not in the clothes baskets or into the washer itself. She started to stand: she'd taken all those first aid classes; surely she could help a nauseated teenager.

Before she could do anything though, the situation was handled. Brian pulled out a bottle of ginger ale from the refrigerator, soaked a clean dish towel at the sink, and started after his suffering brother.

'_Well, of course,' _Hannah thought to herself. _'Of course Brian would know how to handle a queasy kid.' _Surely Adam did too, and maybe even Crane. They had been taking care of their brothers all on their own for ten years, before Adam even met her.

Still, she felt useless.

Just then, the phone rang. And Evan looked up at the clock and said, "Daniel, we're going to miss the bus!"

Daniel stopped sulking long enough to start grabbing his stuff. Crane ducked around Evan to grab the phone, mercifully ceasing the shrill ringing.

"What about Ford?" Evan said.

Adam waved them away. "Go. I don't think Ford's going to school today and if he is we'll get him there."

The two boys stampeded out of the house and it suddenly seemed quieter and larger with them gone.

"Uhuh," Crane was saying into the phone. "No, don't worry, Mrs. Barrett. I hope Jenny feels better soon. Yes. Good-bye." He hung up the phone and came back to the table. "Jenny Barrett's sick. Sounds a lot like what Ford has. She's staying home today."

Guthrie looked up. "How am I going to get to school?"

"I'll take you on my way to the Co-op meeting," Crane answered.

"You've got to take me too," Ford said, staggering in, Brian at his heels. "I've got a test first period!"

"Ford," Adam said.

"Adam, I've got to go! I can't miss two tests. And Mr. Striker is going over our term project in biology, I have to be there for that –"he closed his mouth tightly and whirled around, almost tripping over Brian, and raced back to the laundry room.

"Adam, he doesn't need to go to school sick like this," Brian protested.

Adam sighed again. "I know that, Brian, but you know Ford."

Still standing, Crane poured another cup of coffee and gulped it down. "You two need to get up to the north fence line if you're going to try to go today. It's supposed to storm later this afternoon."

Hannah glanced out the window. It was another clear blue and gold fall day – or at least what passed for fall in California – but the mountains in the distance were obscured by low-lying clouds.

"I can take Ford to school, and Guthrie," Crane volunteered. "Then after the meeting is over I can go back and check on Ford, bring him home if he isn't feeling better. His tests are in the first two periods."

Hannah wondered how Crane knew that. She hadn't heard Ford mention anything except the first test.

Adam rubbed his forehead. _'Is he getting sick too?' _Hannah wondered. Maybe it was just the logistics of the morning. "I guess that'll work out," he conceded. "Brian and I do have to get going. If you can get Ford out of the laundry room, that is."

Brian brought four brown paper bags to the table. "Guess you get to drop off Evan and Daniel's lunches, too – they forgot 'em this morning."

"I can do that," Crane said. He eyed Adam. "You know, Adam, about Daniel's show this weekend…"

"Where is this one?" Adam asked.

Crane looked like he'd rather avoid answering that question. Finally, he said, "Rattlers."

"_Rattlers?" _Adam slapped his hand on the table. "No! I've told him before that I don't want him near that place!"

It was Crane's turn to sigh. "Adam, he's eighteen years old."

"Exactly! He's only eighteen. He doesn't need to be hanging around a dive like Rattlers. Half the low-lives in the area hang out at that place. Charlie told me they have a bust there almost every month."

Hannah wondered who Charlie was, but no one was explaining.

"It's more money than he's ever earned for a single gig," Crane said.

It was funny. Just listening to the conversation, Hannah would think Crane was pushing Adam to let go and agree Daniel should take the job. But Hannah wasn't just listening, she was watching too, and she could tell by the strained expression on his face that Crane wasn't any happier about it than Adam was.

"If law enforcement comes in there when Daniel is he could be arrested. And Jeff and Steven. They're all under twenty-one."

"No one's going to arrest Daniel just for _being_ in a bar. He's in one almost every weekend." This was Brian, standing at the sink. "Not around here, at least. He'd have to be drinking to get in trouble. And he's not going to do that when he's on a job."

Adam transferred his glare to Brian. "Just whose side are you on?" he snapped.

"Yours. But you can't hang on so tight that you strangle the kid, Adam. Daniel has other ideas besides staying on this ranch his whole life. Just like you did."

The tension ratcheted up so tight you could cut it with a knife. Hannah cast about for something to say but couldn't think of what. She wasn't sure why Adam was so dead-set against Daniel performing at this Rattlers place; what Crane was so worried about, or why Adam was now glaring at Brian like he wanted to hit him.

"What I wanted has nothing to do with Daniel," he finally said, snapping off each word like they were rocks in his mouth.

She'd almost forgot Guthrie was still in the room, until he piped up with "So can I go listen to Daniel this weekend? I've never been to Rattlers."

"No!" Crane and Adam chimed in unison, followed by Brian's "Hell, no!" just a split second later.

"You're too young," Adam added.

Crane looked even more shaken than Adam did. "You're _never _going to be old enough to go to that place."

Guthrie tried to look injured, but it was pretty obvious to Hannah, at least, that his intent was much less about going to Rattlers than it had been about breaking up his brothers' disagreement.

Ford slumped into the room from the laundry room. "I've got to get to school."

Adam sighed. "Ford, I don't think –"

"Adam, I've got to take these tests. At least the one in first period. We only have four tests in geometry and each one is a fourth of the grade."

"What about the other one?" Crane asked. "Because you look awful, Ford, and I have a feeling they'll want to send you home the minute they look at you."

Ford rubbed his forehead. "I can probably make it up."

"Okay then. So how about this? I'll get you to school for your test, then I'll run Guthrie back to his school and come back to Angels Camp and pick you up?"

"What about the Co-op meeting?" Adam asked.

Hannah opened her mouth to say _she _could do the school run, but Crane said "I'll stop by the meeting and let them know I can't make it. It'll be fine, Adam."

Adam was quiet for a minute, then he nodded his head. "Sounds good. Brian, you and I better head for the north pasture right away."

Brian shot a glance toward Hannah. "If the weather holds, we'll probably be up there up there pretty late. Could you – I mean, would you mind cooking supper again?"

Well, at least someone remembered she was there.

"Sure, I'd like that," she smiled at Brian, happy that she could at least cook a meal for her new family.

**7Bf7B**

With the McFadden males scattered to their tasks, Hannah decided to do a couple loads of laundry. She approached the laundry room with trepidation, but either Ford, or more likely Brian, had cleaned up Ford's mess. There was a faint odor of sour milk in the room, but it vanished as soon as she scooped detergent into the washing machine.

With the washer chugging away with a load of blue jeans, Hannah headed out to the big living room. There was a light coating of dust on the furniture so she located the cleaning rags – old diapers, apparently – and straightened up the room, moving the guitar and banjo off the couch and back to the side of the fireplace hearth, gathering the scattered newspapers into one pile. With that done she stripped the sheets off Guthrie and Brian's fold out bed and carried them back into the laundry room.

She remembered being annoyed when she'd had to straighten up the apartment after her mother blew out like a whirlwind in the mornings. Somehow it didn't bother her here, in this house. In _her_ house. Still, she wished she had more of a role than the backup cook and cleaning lady.

'_Give it time,' _she chastised herself, remembering what Adam had said on their wedding night. _You've got to realize we haven't had a woman up here since Mom died. Those guys don't mean to ignore you; they just don't know what to do with you._

She came back and decided to wash the breakfast dishes. Crane had piled them all in the sink and Brian had said, _"You don't need to wash them," _but really. Like she was going to let them sit in the sink until after supper?

She'd finished the dishes and was heading upstairs when the phone rang. Reversing her course, she went back down the steps and grabbed the receiver. "Hello?"

"_Yes. Hello? This is Julie from the elementary school. May I speak to Adam or Brian McFadden?"_

She frowned. "I'm sorry, neither one of them is here right now. Can I help you?" She awkwardly added, "I'm Hannah. Adam's wife." She got such a warm feeling, saying she was a _wife. Adam's _wife.

"_Oh, of course. Mrs. McFadden. I'm Julie Harris," _the voice said again. _"I went to school with Brian. But I'm calling about Guthrie. He's isn't here yet and no one called in to report him missing school today –? "_

Hannah frowned, glancing at the clock. Almost nine-thirty. Crane had left with Ford and Guthrie a few minutes after eight. Ford had been worried about not getting to school for his class, which apparently started at eight- thirty. Surely he would have had time to drop Ford off in Angels Camp and then get Guthrie back to the grade school in Murphys? But on the other hand, Ford had been sick and really, Hannah didn't know how long it took to get to the high school from their house and then back into Murphys.

She became aware the woman on the other end was patiently waiting for her to say something. "I'm sorry, we had a bit of trouble this morning," she apologized. "Guthrie's brother was going to drop him off, but he had to go to Angels Camp first –"

She heard laughter from the other end. _"Someone missed the bus, I guess? Well things happen. We just wanted to make sure Guthrie wasn't sick. I'm sure he'll be here any minute. Thanks, Mrs. McFadden. Oh, and welcome to the neighborhood!"_

Hannah hung up, smiling. Julie sounded friendly and if she'd gone to school with Brian she'd be only a year or so older than Hannah. It might be nice to get to know her. Hannah didn't really know anyone here that well, just her new family and Marie at the diner and the customers she'd met there. Really, Marie was the only one she could call friend.

She sighed. Walking out to the big wraparound porch, she sat on the swing and pushed gently with her feet to get it moving again. She stared out over the ranch. She could hear the bull and the half dozen or so cows that stayed close to the house mooing back and forth at each other. From the barn she heard a whinny from one of the horses. The wind had a bite to it she wasn't expecting. Concerned, she walked to the other side and glanced at the towering mountains in the distance. Gray haze still shrouded the peaks. Surely it was fog, or rain. It wasn't going to snow this early, was it?

She gazed with a fierce love for the place. Oddly enough, she hadn't thought about where Adam might live when she'd accepted his marriage proposal. She knew he was a rancher, but somehow she'd expected something more like the small place she'd grown up. This was a working ranch. It belonged to the McFaddens and the McFaddens belonged to it in a way she could only envy and try to understand.

But she belonged here, now, too.

She just had to find her place.

She didn't know how long she stood there, staring out, until she heard the phone ring inside again. She hoped it was Crane, calling to tell her he'd dropped off Guthrie and was on his way back with Ford. But then, why would he think to call her?

"_Is this the McFadden home?"_

A woman. Older than Julie from the elementary school, quite a bit older, if Hannah could judge by her voice. And annoyed about something too, apparently.

"It is."

A snort from the other end of the line made Hannah feel defensive. The woman went on: _"I need to speak to Adam or Brian McFadden."_

"I'm sorry," Hannah said again. "But neither one of them is here. They won't be back until later tonight. May I help you? I'm Hannah McFadden." The name still was strange on her tongue. "Adam's wife."

"_I don't know who you are, but Adam isn't married. I –" _There was a mumbled voice in the background, faintly familiar. Hannah strained to listen. Was that Ford?

The woman's voice came back onto the line. _"Well. I have just been informed that Adam does indeed have a wife. My apologies." _She didn't sound apologetic at all. _"No one had informed The School of that."_

Hannah didn't know what she was supposed to say to that.

"_Well. I am Miss Millican from the high school. I have Ford in my office. He seems to be rather ill. He tells me his brother Crane was supposed to pick him up, but Crane isn't here and we really don't need sick children infecting the other students. So you need to come and get him." _It wasn't a request.

"Um, okay." Hannah paused. She wasn't exactly sure how to get to the high school in Angels Camp. And she was worried about Crane. Why hadn't he gone back to pick up Ford?

"I'll be there as soon as I can," she told the woman on the phone. "Tell Ford –"but Miss Millican had already disconnected.

Hannah went into the kitchen for the list of phone numbers she'd spotted. Her fingers were cold and it took her two tries to connect to the local elementary school in Murphys. She was pretty sure the woman who answered was the Julie who had called before. Hannah identified herself and asked if Guthrie had made it to school.

"_Well, no, he hasn't." _Julie said.

Hannah tightened her hand on the receiver. Nervous fluttering filled her stomach. "I'm afraid maybe they've had car trouble," she said, forcing her voice to remain calm. It could happen, right? The Jeep was newer than the truck, but neither one of them was a new vehicle. "I need to go pick up Ford, and I'll look for Crane and Guthrie on the way. But I don't know what route Crane would have taken -?"

There was a moment of silence, then Julie said _"It's hard to explain, if you don't know the roads… but wait, did you say Crane dropped Ford off and then was coming back to Murphys with Guthrie? Okay, he'd have taken…" _she trailed off. _"Well to be honest I don't know what the number is of the highway. Everyone around here just calls it the Murphys-Angel Camp road. From your place, you know where the fairgrounds are?"_

"Yes." Hannah wouldn't forget the county fair anytime soon.

"_Go through Murphys and out to the fairgrounds. The first crossroads after the fairgrounds, turn back to the north. A couple of miles the road splits into a Y. You want to take the left fork. That road comes straight past the high school. That's probably the way Crane would have gone. But drive carefully, Mrs. McFadden."_

Hannah thanked her and hung up. She ran upstairs, grabbed her jacket, and came back down, grabbing the keys on her way out. She was glad she'd had a chance to drive the old International truck last week, and get used to it. She turned the key, relaxing when the engine caught. Taking a deep breath, she headed out to find the missing members of her family.

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The wind had picked up and leaden gray clouds ominously approached closer and closer. Nervously, Hannah felt a chill as vivid forked lightning stabbed through the sky. The rain held off though, as she drove through Murphys and then turned onto the road by the fairgrounds.

She wasn't familiar with the road and had to pay more attention to it than she wanted, making it hard in the gathering gloom to watch the other side for the McFadden Jeep. As it was, she almost missed seeing it because it was pulled half off the road into the trees. Hannah made a U-turn and swung in behind it. She struggled to open the door against the wind. Fat raindrops splattered around her as she called, "Crane? Guthrie?" The wind grabbed her words and whirled them away. Bending against the wind, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket, she made her way around the Jeep. The passenger front tire was blown out, but there were no signs of an accident; Crane had apparently managed to steer the vehicle safely off the road.

So where were the passengers?

The side of the road dropped steeply down into a heavily wooded area. Something lighter in color moved amongst the trees. Hannah made her way carefully down the slope. The rain was starting in earnest now: heavy, big and icy-cold raindrops pelting faster and faster. Within seconds she was soaked.

Her foot caught on something – a root – and she felt herself falling. Then something grabbed her and kept her on her feet.

"Hannah!" Crane yelled. "What are you doing here?"

She grabbed onto his arm, covered in a light denim jacket. Was that the light colored patch she had seen? Blinking rain from her eyes, she saw that Crane had his other arm wrapped around a dirt-encrusted Guthrie. He was covered from head to toe in muck.

"What happened?" she gasped.

"Later," Crane insisted. He sounded so much like Adam then. He pushed her forward, one hand behind her back and the other still wrapped around Guthrie, who hadn't said a word. The youngest McFadden stopped suddenly and pulled away from his brother. He doubled over, vomiting. Only Crane's fast grab of his belt kept him from face-planting into the trees.

"Oh, Guthrie," Hannah sighed. "He's got Ford's bug?"

Crane managed a smile. "Think we both have it,"he admitted, and she noticed his face was pale in the murky light.

They managed to make their way to the truck and piled in, all of them wet and shivering. Hannah was worried about Guthrie. He wasn't wearing a jacket and his muddy flannel shirt and jeans clung to his body. His teeth were chattering. Hannah wrapped her arms around him, even though she was almost as wet as he was.

"What happened?" She asked Crane again as he shut the door hard against the wind, leaving them safe inside the truck cab with the violent weather outside.

Crane fished around behind the seat until he dragged a heavy plaid blanket up and wrapped it around both Guthrie and Hannah. "After the tire blew out Guthrie was holding the flashlight while I tried to get the lug nuts off. He started gagging and he ran a few steps away and – he just disappeared. The bank crumbled under him and he rolled down a good twenty feet."

"Oh my!" Hannah gasped. "Is he hurt? Guthrie, did you hurt yourself?"

Guthrie shook his head and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "I don't think so. I guess –" he started to choke and before Hannah could do anything he threw up all over her.

"Shit!" Hannah exclaimed before she could stop herself.

The next few minutes were a cacophony of sounds and movement as Hannah fought down nausea herself, Crane scrabbled about for something to clean up the mess and Guthrie tried to wipe his vomit off Hannah while desperately apologizing between retching. It took Hannah a bit to realize the tears making tracks in his muddy face were not because of his illness, but because _of her_.

"Hey hey, calm down, Guthrie," Crane had his arms wrapped around his little brother and was trying to soothe him, although from the expression on his face he was as freaked out as Guthrie was. "It's okay. It was an accident. Hannah knows that." He looked up at Hannah then, his eyes wide and pleading in his white face.

Hannah could have kicked herself right down that incline. "Guthrie. Guthrie, please, look at me."

He could barely meet her gaze.

"Crane's right, you couldn't help it. I'm not mad. I'm just…" The truth came out before she could stop it. "No one has ever thrown up on me before."

Crane forced a smile, rubbing Guthrie's back. "Good thing she married Adam instead of Brian, isn't it, Guth? I have it on good authority Brian barfs on a lot of his dates."

Hannah couldn't imagine why that was funny, but Guthrie laughed. "Ford's lucky that teacher didn't flunk him."

"Brian vomited on Ford's _teacher?" _

"In all fairness to Big Brother, he didn't know she was Ford's teacher at the time."

Guthrie's face twisted. "I'm gonna –"

This time Crane moved fast and somehow got the door open and Guthrie across his knees, head hanging out the door. There couldn't have been much left in the youngest McFadden to come up, but he kept heaving.

"Oh, God," Crane said suddenly.

Hannah looked up to see the greenish cast to his skin before Crane joined his brother in emptying his stomach contents onto the ground.

**7Bf7B**

It had to be one of the longest drives of her life. Crane couldn't drive, but he managed to direct her to the high school. Hannah had to go in to get Ford; Crane lent her his jacket so nobody could see her stained clothes. But to Hannah, the smell was obvious. She hoped she could slip in and out of the front office without running into anyone.

As she stepped into the office, an elderly woman sitting behind a desk looked up and pinned her with piercing blue eyes. If the small sign on her desk could be believed, she was _"Miss Lisa Millican, Administrative Assistant". _No doubt the same woman that Hannah had spoken with on the phone. Either she could smell the sour aroma arising from Hannah's clothes, or she just normally looked like she had just eaten a lemon. She said, "I was expecting one of Ford's _brothers _to pick him up, not you."

Hannah tried to keep a pleasant voice. "Crane is out in the car. He seems to be coming down with the same thing Ford has."

"Aha! So it _is_ contagious!" And really, why did Miss Millican sound so triumphant? Hannah soon found out. "We strongly discourage families from sending ill children here to The School." Hannah could hear the capitalization of the words. "I know that Adam and Brian understand this."

The implication that _Hannah_ didn't understand "this" was obvious. Hannah thought about telling the woman that Ford had insisted on coming to school but decided not to waste her breath. "Do I need to sign something? And where is Ford?"

The secretary – _administrative assistant_ – sighed noisily. "Ford is in the nurses' office. And I really don't know how I can discharge him to you. You aren't on the list of approved people." She said this with a queer note of satisfaction in her tone.

Hannah could feel her temper slipping. _Really? _She was just trying to pick up Ford, which this woman had _ordered _her to do, and now what? Did Lisa Millican think Hannah wandered around the countryside, kidnapping sick sophomores?

"Hannah!"

Both Hannah and the secretary turned around at the voice to regard Evan McFadden standing in the door of the office.

"What are you doing here?" Evan asked.

"What are you doing out of class?" Miss Millican snapped.

"Trying to pick up Ford," Hannah replied.

"Oh, good. He's really sick," Evan said, not even looking at the other woman. "But he's down in the nurse's office. I was just checking on him. Want me to go get him?"

"Mr. McFadden! What are you doing out of class without a pass?" Miss Millican demanded.

Evan held up a yellow piece of paper. "Mr. Emory had me take the projector back to Media."

"And you somehow found time to check on your brother?"

Evan finally looked at the woman. "I had to walk right past the nurse's office and he's sitting right there. The nurse is giving eye exams in the gym and Ford is really sick."

Millican tightened her lips. "Fine. I assume you are telling me that this is actually your sister-in-law?"

Evan stared at her. "Well, yeah. Who else would she be?"

Hannah felt like high fiving Evan in triumph.

"Fine." The administrative assistant snapped. When she looked at Hannah again she gave her a grimace that was probably her version of a smile. "Please have the boys' _legal guardian _notify us formally of your status. I really shouldn't release Ford to you but since Evan is vouching for you I will this time." She shoved a notebook over. "Sign here."

Hannah signed, and then stood there because she had no idea where the nurse's office was. Evan, standing next to her, touched her arm. "I'll go get him," he offered again.

Hannah didn't want Evan to get in any trouble about being out of class too long, but Millican had sat down at a desk behind the counter and was busily typing and ignoring both of them. After an awkward several seconds, Hannah backed out of the room with Evan right behind her.

"Stay here," Evan said. "I'll be right back." He broke into a jog down the long, brightly lit hall. Not wanting Miss Millican to see her just standing there, Hannah walked a few feet away and looked around. It reminded her a little bit of her own high school. Glass fronted cabinets crammed with sports memorabilia, trophies and old yearbooks; brightly colored banners proclaiming _"Bullfrogs Keep It Hopping!" _next to a United Way thermometer, the red marking indicating the school had nearly met the goal for the year. Lockers two-high spanned one side of the hallway and closed doors with frosted glass windows were interspersed down the other. It smelled like she remembered her own high school: that brittle smell of chalk dust and books and teenage hormones.

She heard her name called and turned to see Evan coming up the hall with his arm around Ford's shoulder. It looked like that was all that was keeping Ford on his feet. As pale as he had been this morning, he was colorless now, as if all the blood had been leached out of his face.

"Where's Crane?" Ford asked weakly.

"He's in the truck," Hannah replied. "With Guthrie. They both seem to have have what you have."

"They're both sick, too?" Evan asked. "Maybe I'd better go home with you. You're going to need some help."

Hannah almost told him yes. But she remembered Adam's comment that morning about school. She was afraid he'd be angry if she let Evan skip. Besides, the Jeep still was stranded out on the highway.

She told Evan what had happened. "Is there any way you and Daniel can pick it up?"

Evan looked like he was thinking hard for a moment, then he nodded his head. "No problem. We can catch a ride with Steve or somebody and go by Walt Henry's place and get a new tire. We have an account there," he added, saving Hannah from having to rummage for money in her purse. "We'll be home as soon as we can," Evan went on. Then his face changed. "Oh, wait. Daniel is supposed to be rehearsing tonight with his band." He shrugged. "Well I'll take care of the Jeep."

"You couldn't change a tire if your life depended on it," Ford said weakly.

Evan looked affronted. "Sure I can. You're getting me mixed up with you." In spite of the teasing words, his voice was gentle and he insisted on helping his brother out to the truck and checking on Crane and Guthrie before heading back into the school.

The ride back to the ranch was tortuous. Even though the temperature had dropped and chill rain kept spitting from the sky, Hannah had to keep the window open to try to dispel some of the smell and to keep herself from being sick.

She had never been so glad to park a vehicle as she was at the moment she turned off the truck in front of the house. Ford, who had been hanging head-first out the window for most of the trip, ran crookedly into the house. Guthrie was wobbling toward the steps when he fell to his knees and upchucked into the rose bush next to them. Crane was pale and sweating and he almost fell too as he tried to help his little brother.

Hannah took charge. "Crane! Go on inside," she said. "I've got him."

Crane hesitated but then nodded and pulled himself up the steps and into the door that Ford had left hanging open. Hannah knelt by Guthrie, rubbing his back soothingly. There wasn't anything left in his stomach but he was still paralyzed by dry heaves.

When they mercifully subsided, Guthrie collapsed against her, tears trickling from his eyes. Hannah wrapped her arms around him and coaxed him into standing, leading him into the house.

She heard the upstairs bathroom door slam shut and realized that must be where Ford had run off to. Crane looked like he'd collapsed halfway up the stairs and was sitting there, head leaning against the wall.

She was damp and her clothes smelled. She really wanted a shower and some clean clothes but right now her focus had to be on the guys. She shepherded Guthrie to the tiny powder room off the living room. It was so small there was barely room for both of them. She took off Guthrie's shoes and left him sitting on the toilet.

Then she helped Crane up the rest of the stairs into his room. "I'm okay," he said, weaving toward his bed. "I'm really sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" Hannah asked.

He put an arm over his eyes. "I just need a minute," he said, not answering her question. "Then I can take care of them."

Hannah sighed. Once he was lying down, she doubted he would be able to get up again if he tried. She remembered Ford complaining about his headache that morning and figured Crane had one now, too. "Don't worry about it," she said gently. "I've got it."

"They're my brothers," he protested.

"They're my brothers, too," she said.

Crane dropped his arm and turned his head to look at her through squinted eyes. After a minute, a faint smile crossed his face. "Guess they are," he murmured. "I guess we all are."

In spite of being drenched, puked on, and treated like a kidnapper, Hannah felt a warm feeling in her chest at those words.

**7Bf7B**

Once back downstairs, Hannah found some clean pajamas for Guthrie in the laundry room – she had yet to figure out where he stored his clean clothes – and knocked lightly on the door of the powder room. "Guthrie? I'm coming in, okay?"

There was a pause and then Guthrie said, in a very tiny voice, "Okay."

She slid open the pocket door. Guthrie had somehow managed to get his jeans off but he couldn't seem to manage his sodden shirt. Pushing his hands away, Hannah unbuttoned it and pulled it off him. Then she quickly looked him over. Somehow he'd managed to avoid any scrapes or scratches in his slide down the hill, but she could see a couple of big red spots that would no doubt turn out to be bruises later. Right now, he was cold. Goosebumps covered his chilled flesh and he shivered.

It was a testimony to how bad he was feeling that Guthrie let Hannah dress him in the clean pajamas and then pull two pairs of socks onto his feet. Then she helped him out to his bed in the living room and he curled up under two quilts. She put the small wastepaper basket that usually sat next to Crane's desk beside the bed in case Guthrie needed to be sick again. With all that done, she could finally run upstairs and put on dry clothes herself.

It was a busy afternoon. Crane slept, waking regularly when she roused him to drink ginger ale or water. He refused to take anything for his head, saying he was afraid it would just start him vomiting again.

Poor Ford was – to use an expression – going at both ends. He kept rushing from his room to the bathroom. But around three that afternoon his cramps finally seemed to ease and he fell asleep on Evan's lower bunk, because he'd almost fallen off his top bunk in one of his races to the bathroom.

That left Guthrie. The youngest McFadden seemed to escape the stomach cramps that had felled Ford, but if the tight lines of pain around his mouth and eyes were any clue, he had a killer headache. But he had to be the most stoic twelve-year old ever. He didn't say one word about the pain, just biting his lip and burying his head under the pillows in his fold out bed. About every fifteen minutes he would retch into the trash can next to him, long after there was anything to bring up but bile and saliva. Hannah kept encouraging him to drink, ginger ale or water or even weak tea, but he just clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. He wouldn't even take any aspirin.

Hannah got more and more worried as the day went on and she couldn't get Guthrie to drink anything. She was afraid he would dehydrate. She checked on Ford and found him awake, staring into space. He drank his ginger ale tentatively and then frowned when she told him about Guthrie. "Lemonade," he finally said.

"Lemonade?" she repeated.

"He loves lemonade."

Hannah wasn't sure that lemonade was that great of an idea for a sick child, but on the other hand nothing else she'd tried had worked, so she headed for the kitchen. Glancing at the clock, she realized she needed to do something about supper, even though she had no appetite and doubted the sick ones would be up to anything except maybe some soup.

She found a container of lemonade mix on shelf in the pantry and mixed up a pitcher, putting in some extra sugar and a lot of ice. She left it to sit for a minute while she tried to figure out what to cook. It was too late to thaw anything from the freezer. As a matter of fact she was getting a little worried. The clouds had obscured the sun but it was late in the afternoon and surely Evan should have been home by now.

Barely had she thought about that when she heard the distinctive sound of the Jeep in the driveway and she walked out onto the wraparound porch, folding her arms against her body to ward off the chill. Somehow she wasn't surprised to see Daniel with Evan, even though he was supposed to be at a friend's house rehearsing with his band.

"How are they?" Daniel asked as he and Evan pounded up the steps.

She made a gesture with her hand to quiet them down. "Guthrie's asleep in the living room," she said in a hushed voice.

Evan frowned. "Why isn't he up in my bed?" he asked.

"Ford's in your bed," she answered. She was confused. Why would Guthrie be in Evan's bed?

"He sleeps in my room if he's sick," Evan reported, as if he'd heard her silent thoughts.

"How's Crane?" Daniel demanded to know.

"He's asleep," Hannah answered. "I was just making some lemonade."

Both boys smiled. "Guthrie'll love that," Daniel said.

"I thought you were going to a friend's house?" Hannah asked.

Daniel shrugged. "Evan told me what happened. Evan couldn't change a tire if his life depended on it, so I came along with him."

"I can too change a tire!" Evan insisted.

Daniel laughed. "Since when? You couldn't change a tire unless it was on the end of a horse."

Evan shook his head, but he was grinning. "You must be coming down with something, too, because you're delusional!"

By this time they were all in the kitchen. "I'll get Guthrie up to my room and then meet you in the barn," Evan told Daniel.

Daniel nodded. "I'll go check on Crane and Ford."

Evan grabbed a glass of the lemonade and he and Daniel separated, leaving Hannah in the kitchen, feeling at loose ends. She followed Evan into the living room, where he was talking to Guthrie in a low voice. She saw the blankets move as if Guthrie were moving his head, and she was afraid he was refusing the lemonade, too, until Evan looked up and caught her eyes.

"What?" she asked.

He looked at her for a long moment, looked at her as if he didn't know who she was, until finally his face relaxed into a tender smile.

"Guthrie wants _you_," was all he said.

_To be continued…._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Hannah tip-toed away from Guthrie's bed. The youngest McFadden had drank half a glass of lemonade and managed to keep it down. He finally admitted he had a _"really bad"_ headache. But when Hannah pushed him to take something for it, he told her his throat was raw and he didn't think he could swallow any pills. Hannah could have kicked herself for not thinking of that. The kid had been throwing up for hours; it made sense his throat burned from the acid. She didn't suggest medication again, she just rubbed his back until he fell into an uneasy doze.

The family first-aid kit was kept, for some reason, in the laundry room. Hannah pulled it off a shelf. It was a big one, in what looked like an old fishing tackle box or something, maybe an old tool kit. It was rather amazingly well-stocked, although maybe she shouldn't be surprised. A ranching family with seven active boys probably had more than their share of bumps, bruises, scrapes and the like.

There was a laminated card in the top of the box. It looked like someone had torn the page out of the Red Cross handbook that listed what should be in a first aid kit and had mounted it on a sturdy piece of cardboard. On the reverse side it said _Crane McFadden, Ninth grade Health project. _So that explained that. And it looked like, since Crane had put together the kit years ago, that they had added to it as it fit their needs. There were bandages and Band-Aids in various sizes; two rolls of gauze and medical tape; generic bottles of rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide and witch hazel. In the top tray, a new tube of antibiotic ointment nestled next to a small bottle of ipecac syrup, scissors, a package of sterile needles, containers of dental floss and fine silk thread, anti-itch cream, and – Hannah shuddered – a commercial snake bite kit. She really hoped that was in there as a precaution and not as something they had ever needed.

There was a large bottle of aspirin and a somewhat smaller bottle of Johnson's orange baby aspirins, and – she was relieved to see – a bottle of liquid Tylenol. There was also a newspaper clipping folded and creased, about the incidence of Rye's Disease in children given aspirin when they had the flu. Someone in the family apparently paid attention to things like that. Hannah had already thought of it and dismissed any worry: she was certain Guthrie didn't have the traditional flu and his fever wasn't that high. The liquid Tylenol would help – hopefully – ease his headache.

She also found a tiny jar labelled "Tiger Balm" and slipped it into the pocket of her jeans. She knew first-hand how the ointment could ease a pounding headache.

She started into the kitchen to try to figure out – again – what to fix for supper when she heard her named yelled shrilly from outside. Hannah raced to the door and ran out onto the porch.

Daniel and Evan were coming up from the barn and Daniel had his arm wrapped around Evan, helping him. Evan was limping and blood soaked through a tear in his jeans at the knee.

Daniel was panicking. He called her name again in that nervous high voice that was so unlike his usual harmonious tones. When he saw her, he tried to move Evan faster. "Hannah! Evan fell. He sliced his knee open on the edge of a shovel. He's bleeding!"

As if Hannah had maybe failed to notice _that._

"Daniel it's okay," Evan tried to tell him.

"It's not okay! You're bleeding. You could get lockjaw or something!"

Hannah held the door open as Daniel helped his brother into the kitchen and eased him to a chair at the table. Evan's face was pale, but for some reason, Daniel was even whiter. He stepped back and rubbed his hands on his jeans nervously. "What do we need to do? What should I do? I can call the doctor!"

Hannah didn't quite know why Daniel was so upset. Yes, it was a nasty slice, but it wasn't like Evan had lost a limb, and surely Daniel had seen worse injuries around the ranch. He had a point about the lockjaw though. "Evan when was your last tetanus shot?"

"Last year," Daniel responded before Evan could even open his mouth. "When he cut his hand on a nail."

"Daniel –" Evan started again.

"I'll get Crane!" Daniel said, whirling and running out of the room.

"Don't –" But Daniel was already gone. Evan shot a glance at Hannah. "Sorry about that," he said, shaking his head. "Daniel gets a little… um, upset when one of us bleeds."

"Does the sight of blood freak him out?" Hannah asked, soaking a washcloth and using it to clean up the blood welling from the injury. People were afraid of blood, even people that you never expected it from. She remembered working a blood drive in college and how one of the tight ends of the football team – a huge, normally cheerful guy – passed out cold when he caught sight of his own blood spilling into the bag.

"Not really. I mean… he plays football and soccer and his _own_ blood doesn't bother him." Evan looked like he was searching for the right words. "It's only if it's one of us. Brian broke his arm last year when he and Daniel were the only ones out in the pasture and Daniel freaked out once he got him home." He paused, then went on quietly. "I think it has to do with Mom and Dad."

"Oh," Hannah said. She knew their parents were dead – Adam had told her that much her first day on the ranch, but she didn't know how it had happened. She'd wondered, but hadn't found a good way to ask.

"They died in a car accident," Evan said, again seeming to read her thoughts. He sighed. "Daniel saw it. Well, not the accident itself. He was spending the night with Cody Wheeler – Cleo's older brother. It was Cody's birthday and his folks were taking everybody into Sonora to see a movie. They came up on the accident not too long after it happened. Mr. Wheeler had a CB in his truck and he called for an ambulance but… they said later they probably…you know, right away." He swallowed hard. "Mrs. Wheeler tried to keep Daniel away but he saw… he doesn't talk about it now. But he had nightmares about it for a long time afterwards."

Hannah couldn't imagine how Daniel lived with that pain. Her own father had died in the hospital. She'd been taken in to see him near the end, to say goodbye. It was her saddest memory.

But her dad had been sick for a long time before he died. And he'd been in a hospital; really he'd just looked like he was sleeping. To see your parents – who'd been alive, vital, just hours before – like _that_, crushed and torn, bleeding… she could understand why Daniel had nightmares. The miracle was that he'd ever _stopped_.

Hannah didn't know what to say to Evan, but right then Crane wobbled into the room. He took a quick look at Evan. "How bad is it?" he asked Hannah.

"Bad enough," she admitted. "But I don't think he'll need stitches. We probably need to call the doctor though, see if he thinks he needs a tetanus booster." She rose to her feet. "I'll get the first aid kit."

Crane dropped unsteadily into a chair and rubbed a hand across his tired face. "Thanks," he said, his voice ragged. "Sorry about all this… you've had quite a day of McFadden emergencies. I promise you that this isn't a normal day around here!"

"Where's Daniel?" Evan asked, craning his neck to look into the living room.

"I told him to get Guthrie upstairs and tucked into bed," Crane answered. "He does better with puke than he does with blood, any day."

**7Bf7B**

The McFadden family doctor – a tall, elderly man that Hannah remembered from the square dance at the county fair – arrived just as the storm picked up again, with rain lashing at the windows and wind wailing around the corners of the house.

Dr. M – as Crane introduced him – complimented Hannah on her bandaging job before removing it to inspect Evan's knee. After wrapping it up again, he injected the tetanus booster into Evan's arm. He pulled out another hypodermic and said, "Antibiotics, Evan… you know the drill."

"Ah, Doc! I don't need any antibiotics," Evan protested.

"You cut your knee in a _barn_, young man. You do need antibiotics. Drop the jeans, please."

Evan flushed and looked at Hannah. Realizing he was embarrassed about undressing in front of her, Hannah smiled and turned to look nervously out at the worsening weather. By the time she turned back again, Evan was clothed again and rubbing his hip. Daniel, who had returned from upstairs somewhat calmer, was watching both Evan and Crane carefully. Dr. M counted out twenty capsules into a clean brown pill bottle and left them on the table. "Twice a day, for ten days. Take them all, Evan." He swung to look at Hannah. "Any red streaks, swelling, prurient drainage, or an elevated temperature: you call me right away, all right?"

Not sure why he was focusing on her, Hannah nodded her head anyway. "I know what to look for," she said.

"Good!" The doctor favored her with a smile. Then he turned to look at Crane. "And what seems to be the matter with you?"

Daniel jumped in before Crane could more than open his mouth. "He's got some kind of bug. So do Guthrie and Ford."

"It's going around," the doctor said. "Headache, nausea, vomiting, body aches, and diarrhea?"

Crane shot his own look at Hannah. "Well… yes."

Dr. M pulled out his stethoscope and a light from his black bag. "Any fever?"

"I don't think so," Crane answered.

"Ford has a fever," Daniel stated.

The doctor laid a hand on Crane's forehead, then the side of his face. "You have one, too, Crane. Low grade, but definitely there." He turned to look at Hannah again. "Not much I can do for it," he admitted. "Except treat the symptoms. Rest, fluids. Nothing heavy to eat, not that they'll probably be hungry for a few days. But it's important to keep well-hydrated." He stood up. "I'll go check on the other two but mostly, it just has to run its course. Keep an eye on the temperatures, though. A few people in town have developed a dangerously high fever with it, and we want to avoid that if possible." He fixed Crane with a look. "I don't want to hear about all the work on the ranch, or Ford's fear he'll fall behind if he misses a few days of school. You stay in bed, and help Hannah here keep the other two in bed, also, understand? And if anyone else in the family comes down with it, same thing."

Crane sighed. He nodded his head. "I've got it."

**7Bf7B**

"I'm worried about Adam and Brian," Hannah said, staring out the window at the lashing storm.

Daniel came to stand beside her. "I helped Crane back upstairs. Ford and Guthrie are both still asleep." He was quiet, joining Hannah in gazing out the window.

"They might have decided to wait out the storm at the cabin," Evan said from where he was still sitting at the dining room table, his injured leg propped up in another chair.

"Cabin?" Hannah repeated.

"More like a shack, really," Daniel said, still watching the storm. "Up in the high country. Our dad built it, back when Adam and Brian were babies." He turned around to look at Evan. "I don't think they'd stay up there. Not tonight. Not without saying something."

Evan shrugged. "Storm could have caught them."

"Maybe." Daniel didn't sound like he believed it.

Hannah pulled her gaze away from the window and walked over to sit next to Evan. "I never did get anything fixed for supper," she sighed. "Are you two hungry?"

She was surprised to find that she herself was hungry. But then, she'd never got to eat any lunch what with taking care of the sick ones.

"Hell, yeah I'm hungry!" Evan announced.

"We both forgot our lunches this morning," Daniel said.

Hannah groaned. "Crane was going to give them to you when he picked up Ford. But then… your lunches are probably still in the Jeep."

"Well, they were," Daniel admitted. "But they were pretty squashed and wet by the time we found them."

"What do you want to eat? And I probably should heat some soup for the sick guys," Hannah said. "Except, I can't find any. Are we out?" She'd looked in the pantry three times today, searching for the familiar red-and-white labels of Campbell's soup cans, and hadn't been able to find any.

Daniel looked surprised. "There's no chicken soup in the freezer?"

Hannah stared at him. "Why would it be in the _freezer?" _

"Because Brian makes big batches of it and keeps it in the freezer for when anybody's sick."

"Homemade soup?" Hannah said, realizing she sounded like a parrot. "Not Campbell's?"

"Nah," Evan said. "Brian really does make good chicken soup."

"I'll go look for some," Daniel said, heading to the back door. The wind caught the door out of his hand and it slammed against the wall. Hannah jumped.

"I'd go for a BLT," Evan said. "Or maybe three or four of them!"

Hannah had to laugh. "I have to admit, that sounds good. You're on, Evan!" She pulled a large skillet from the cupboard.

Daniel brought in two large, lidded plastic containers. "Here we go. One chicken soup, and there was still one tomato soup left. Brian needs to make some more."

Hannah started to get the idea now _just why _they had that huge garden outside, producing far more produce than even the McFaddens could eat fresh. Had _Brian _been the one to fill the pantry with all those Mason jars of home canned veggies?

Daniel ran hot water in the sink until steam frosted the window. He put both containers in the sink and watched the hot water cascade over them. Then he put two large pots on the stove and pried open the containers. He inverted them and shook them until frozen blocks of soup thudded into each pot. He shot her a grin as he turned on the burners. "Way this wind is blowing, I better go start a fire in the fire place, and bring the candles and kerosene lamps in here. Power could go out." He must have noticed the alarmed look on her face. "The stove's propane, so even if we lose the electric that'll be okay. The furnace is too, but it's got an electric igniter so it doesn't work if there's a power outage." He left the kitchen.

"Don't worry, Hannah," Evan said from the table, where he was slicing tomatoes for the sandwiches. "We lose power a lot in storms. We know what to do."

The bacon was starting to hiss in the pan. Hannah jerked her hand back as a splatter of grease burned her, and lowered the flame. She turned to look at Evan. She was really worried about Adam and Brian but she didn't want to let on to it. But looking at Evan, she had a feeling he knew. He gave her a warm smile. "They'll be okay," he said.

She had a feeling he knew, even better than she did, that bad things sometimes happened even to good people.

She hesitated. She wanted to know more about their parents, about how they'd died. How Adam and Brian – eighteen and what? Sixteen, maybe? Had managed to overcome their own grief and loss to raise their younger brothers. She'd tried to ask Adam, once or twice, but he never seemed to want to discuss it.

"Evan, how old were you when your parents died?"

He shot her a look. "What's Adam told you?"

"Nothing much," she admitted. "Just that they died about ten years ago. Until you mentioned it earlier, I didn't even know for sure it was a car accident."

He was quiet for so long she thought he wasn't going to answer. Just about the time she was going to apologize for even asking, he said, "It was their wedding anniversary. The twentieth. They always went out on their anniversary." He smiled wistfully. "I don't remember much, but I think I remember how she looked that night. She was wearing a dark blue dress and her hair was all curled. Usually she just pulled it back in a ponytail but that night it was fixed all fancy. And she was wearing her good perfume. She smelled so good. For a long time – after – we kept that bottle and sometimes Adam would let us open it and take a sniff, so we could remember how she smelled that night."

Hannah didn't say a word, afraid to shatter this crystal stillness.

"I was…six, I guess. Yeah, I turned seven after. Daniel had just turned eight and Ford – the three of us are the closest in age, Daniel's fourteen months older than me, and Ford is eleven months younger. Ford had his birthday a couple weeks after the funeral. Guthrie was just a baby, really, he…he doesn't know this, I don't think he does, but he was sick that night. He had an earache and he was screaming. Mama talked about maybe they shouldn't go that night, but Adam told her he could take care of Guthrie and they should go enjoy their anniversary. They always went to the restaurant in Sonora where they got engaged. Then they would go dancing, or maybe to a movie.

"Adam was getting ready to go to college. He was supposed to leave in a couple of weeks. He was starting to pack his stuff."

"You remember more than I thought you would," Hannah said gently.

He shook his head. "Not really. It's mostly stuff I heard afterwards. Daniel used to talk about that night a lot. Back then him and me and Ford shared a room and he used to talk about it at night after the lights were out."

He sighed again. "I remember the funeral, though. The church was full, people were standing in the aisles and in the back. Dad was from here, he'd lived here his whole life, except when he went away to college and met Mama. You know, Wheeler was one of the pall bearers? He and my dad were friends, they'd grown up together."

Russ Wheeler didn't act like much of a friend _now_, Hannah thought.

"After… was it just Adam and Brian, taking care of you all? You didn't have any other relatives?"

Evan shook his head. "No. Both of them were only children. And all our grandparents were already gone. We have some cousins, I mean, like second or third cousins, but they don't live around here. One was in Georgia, I think? And a couple somewhere else, I can't remember. The one from Georgia, Carolyn, she came to the funeral. But she wasn't much older than Adam and she had a baby of her own. She called to check on us, though." He grinned. "She still does. Every month, like clockwork. She and her family live in Texas now."

Hannah couldn't imagine an eighteen year old trying to raise his brothers. Especially so _many _brothers. And some of them were so young.

"I don't remember this, but I guess there was some fuss about us staying here, making Adam our guardian," Evan said, again as if he'd read her mind. "Some of the people in town wanted to split us up, Tom and Carey Barrett offered to take me and Ford. And Wheeler and his wife said they'd raise Daniel – he was really good friends with Cody – and Guthrie. I don't remember who was supposed to get Brian and Crane. And Adam could have gone on to college. He had a scholarship and everything. But he wouldn't do it. He wouldn't leave us."

"No, he wouldn't," Hannah said softly. She might have only known the man she married for a little over a month, may have known about his family – hers now, too – for just ten days or so, but she was certain he never even thought about taking the easy way out, letting other people take over.

_I wish I'd known you back then, Adam McFadden, _she said to herself. _I wish I could have been there to help you carry that load._

_But I'm here now. And I love you. And I already love them, too. Your brothers. My brothers, now. Our family. Our home._

She thought of Guthrie, clinging to her hand that afternoon. Wanting her to help him when he was sick, in pain. Ford looking so grateful she'd come to pick him up from school. Crane smiling as he agreed she could take care of them. Daniel, not afraid to let her see how worried he was about his brothers. And Evan, now, trusting her with his memories.

Her family.

Outside, lightning crashed down and thunder roared. The lights flickered, then held.

And the back door was flung open and Adam and Brian stumbled in, soaking wet.

**7Bf7B**

_Four days later the storm was over and the sick brothers were feeling better. Evan's knee was healing. The whole family gathered around the supper table again, finally back together with not a drop of chicken soup to be seen. Hannah had cooked another huge meal: she was pretty sure now that she was accepted as the Head Cook._

_Laughter and chatter rang through the room. Hannah found herself effortlessly following each and every conversation. Had it only been a few days ago she wondered how they ever kept track of who was saying what to who?_

_Crane, Ford and Guthrie were finally back to eating again, she noticed happily. It hadn't seemed right for them to just eat soup and tea and crackers. And lemonade, she thought, smiling at Guthrie sitting next to her._

"_Honey, can you pass the biscuits, please?" Adam yelled from his end of the table. _

_She nodded and reached for the basket of biscuits in front of her. But before she could hand it to Guthrie or Crane to pass it on, she had an idea._

"_Biscuits coming down!" she sang out, waiting until everyone was watching. Then she tossed a biscuit into the air, aiming directly for Adam's plate._

_All conversation ceased. All of them – her husband, her brothers – stared at her as if they couldn't believe it._

_Then Evan broke out into a huge grin. "All right!" he said, pounding the table._

_Laughter filled the room, all of them applauding her._

_Hannah smiled, basking in the feeling of family. _

_Her family._

_Finally, she had a home. She had a family._

_She was a McFadden. Hannah Moss McFadden._

_And this was her home._


End file.
